


selfish

by catbrains



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Cynophobia, Lack of Communication, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, but what else is new, izaya makes a lot of poor decisions regarding his own safety and mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbrains/pseuds/catbrains
Summary: Shizuo wants a dog.  Izaya just wants Shizuo to be happy.





	selfish

“I want a dog,” Shizuo declares one day, with the same cadence one would declare that they want a particular food for lunch.  He is sprawled casually on one of Izaya’s expensive leather sofas, arm thrown over the back while he watches the television which is, apparently, playing a show about dog shelters.  It has been on for about three quarters of an hour; Izaya cannot see the television from where is sat at his desk, so he relies on the audio.  An elderly but smooth-voiced presenter is explaining how such places operate, speech occasionally halting in favour of what Izaya guesses to be scenes of the dogs in the shelter, barking and yapping and growling.  The sounds make Izaya grimace; he had spent the time since the show began attempting to devote his attention to his work, with little success, but now that Shizuo has spoken he knows that he cannot rightfully ignore him.  Not without pissing him off, at least.

“Why?” he asks casually, like he has no strong feelings one way or the other about the concept of dog ownership, despite that being about as far from the truth as possible.  He glances up just in time to catch Shizuo shrug, eyes still on the screen.  It is getting to be late and the light from the windows behind Izaya is slowly dying, but neither of them have bothered to turn on the ceiling lights so the television cuts through the dimness to dance blues and yellows across Shizuo’s features.  He is relatively blank-faced, but his eyes are gentle where they are glued to the screen; it would be a nice scene if it wasn't for the loud barks every few seconds making Izaya’s heart freeze.

“Dunno,” Shizuo replies, oblivious, “Might be nice, I guess.  We could adopt one - an older one, so we wouldn't have to worry about training it.  If that's your first concern.”

Izaya has plenty of concerns, training is low on the list.  He had, in fact, been slightly less daunted by the idea of a puppy.  A puppy could not, logically, hurt him, and watching something small grow into something large is far less scary than simply being thrown in at the deep end, but of course Shizuo is ruining all of that without even intending to.  In fact, he’s probably trying to be helpful - he knows Izaya isn't overly keen on the idea of getting a dog, but he likely presumes it’s just a matter of cleanliness and routine.  If only it were that simple.

“It's still impractical,” Izaya says.  He can't even use the excuse that they aren't allowed, because there isn't really anything that his apartment building prevents them from doing.  If they're willing to look past barely-concealed firearms and yakuza members loitering about, they're certainly willing to look past a dog.  So Izaya searches for reasons, which isn't too difficult - it truly is impractical.  “We don't have a garden, for starters.”

“There's parks,” Shizuo responds easily, “We could take it for walks every day.”

“And who would do that?”

“You? You go out all day anyway, and get up stupidly early.  You could take the dog out with you then come drop it back.”

Shizuo sounds genuinely enthusiastic, like he's making actual plans even though he manages to keep most of the childlike joy from his face, and Izaya can't help but feel as if he's being somehow selfish in his unwillingness.

“That's a lot of responsibility to put in my hands over something that  _ you  _ want,” he says.  The words sound too harsh, especially in response to Shizuo’s soft enthusiasm, but it's instinctual for him to push the blame and guilt away from himself, make it out as if Shizuo’s making unfair demands, at least outwardly.  He can overthink it and hate himself sometime when Shizuo isn't around to pick up on it.  He's gotten frustratingly good at that.

“Plus, it would completely ruin my ability to blend in,” he continues, which isn't a lie.  An ‘attractive’ young guy with a cute dog may be useful in gaining the trust of teenage girls, but it would hardly have the same effect on the thugs and gangsters he is often set on the trail of.  “If I suddenly saw somebody I needed to follow, or Shiki-san requested my services, what would I do then? Tell him, ‘Oh, I'm sorry, just give me a moment to pop my dog back home! Then I'll be right on that urgent and highly dangerous job you've got for me!’ I don't think he’d be pleased with that.  And what if I was attacked? The dog could, and most likely would, be hurt or killed.”

Shizuo seems to consider this.  Concern creases his brow, and Izaya can't tell if it's concern for him or for their imaginary dog.

“It's too much of a risk,” Izaya concludes, voice somewhat softer than the tone he had adopted to shoot Shizuo’s ideas down as something like guilt settles slowly and unpleasantly in his stomach.  Shizuo nods slowly after a moment of silence, and Izaya can tell that he's upset even if his face remains mostly impartial.  Shizuo truly does have a soft spot for animals; he often tells Izaya of the strays he runs into in Ikebukuro, the dogs in the park that he takes the time to pet and feed.  Izaya had scolded him the first few times and immediately demanded he showered, but soon came to the conclusion that the genuine joy on Shizuo’s face was too rare a sight to attempt to ruin.  But, of course, he had managed to ruin Shizuo’s happiness anyway and is painfully aware that the defeated look in his boyfriend’s eyes is entirely his fault.  

Izaya turns off both of his monitors, closes his laptop, and rises slowly.  He descends the steps leading to the sofas and television, but remains where he is to watch the screen, out of Shizuo’s line of sight.  Shizuo’s attention has returned to the show and there is no clear indication whether he is even aware Izaya has moved (maybe he's mad, and is ignoring Izaya on purpose?), but from the angle he is at Izaya can just barely see the look on his face.  His eyes are gentle once again, happily watching the dogs on screen run about and play, but Izaya flinches with every noise, every flash of teeth sending a jolt of anxiety - not panic, of course not panic - down his spine.  He is aware of the irony that lies in him being able to watch (and enjoy) the most violent of horror movies and action films - hell, he can even calmly watch such terrors in real life - without so much as blinking, but that's different.  He can tell what these people, real or fictional, are thinking and feeling - can tell  _ why  _ Person A wants to kill Person B, and why Person C doesn't want that to happen.  With dogs - with all animals - there is no such intricate thought process, no expressions, no clear body language, just violence with no room for bargaining or discretion.

Shizuo is still paying him no mind even as the show draws to a close and the credits roll over even more footage of the dogs, running about and playing in large open gardens.  At least there is music playing - a soft, jovial tune, rather than the growls and barks Izaya can see their mouths shaping, baring their awful yellow teeth.  At the end of the credits, a note appears on the screen thanking the featured dog shelter - some place on the other side of the country.

“Hey,” Shizuo says, and for a moment Izaya is sure he is going to request they visit it, “What if we just went to a shelter?”

“Hm?” Izaya quirks an eyebrow, trying to appear casual even if Shizuo isn't looking at him.  It's at least better than Shizuo requesting they go to the featured shelter specifically, but still certainly not something that he wants to do.  At all.  

“We don't have to actually  _ get  _ a dog, but….I dunno.  I like dogs.  It'd be nice to just hang out with ‘em.”

Shizuo’s voice gets somewhat quieter towards the end, like he's fully expecting Izaya to shoot him down again, and it makes something heavy and unpleasant curl in Izaya’s stomach.  He sinks his teeth into his lower lip.  This is a terrible idea.  This is a  _ terrible  _ idea.  For a multitude of reasons, including but not limited to Shizuo’s complete and utter lack of self-control, and Izaya’s phobia (except not a phobia, because phobia means ‘irrational’ and Izaya’s fear - not fear,  _ anxiety _ , fuck - is anything but), but Shizuo’s got that earnest look in his eyes again and Izaya cannot bring himself to ruin it.  

As if to mask his hesitation, Izaya moves around the sofa to sit beside Shizuo.  Immediately, Shizuo is shifting to pull Izaya into laying in his arms, pulled back just far enough to be able to meet his eyes.  Anxiety soothed, at least somewhat, Izaya tells himself that it can't be that bad.  No matter his instinctual reactions to the dogs on the television.  It’s been years since Izaya’s even really seen a dog - he doesn't frequent many places that encourage or allow them other than the streets and parks, and even then he tries to avoid the few he catches a glimpse of - but surely his fear has lessened since middle school.  He isn't a child anymore, he has real things to worry about now - including actual people trying to kill him, not just mindless animals - so, for all he knows, maybe his fear will disappear completely once he's surrounded by the stupid furry beasts.  He'd managed to tame one stupid beast, after all, hadn’t he?

“We could make it a date?” Shizuo offers softly, almost shyly, and after a single moment’s hesitation Izaya is pressing close into Shizuo’s chest to hide the look on his face and signing his own death warrant.

\--

Izaya finds himself stood in the foyer of the nearest animal shelter early in the afternoon a week later, infinitely thankful that Shizuo had not elected to hold his hand at any point lest he become aware of Izaya’s almost violent trembling, which had only gotten worse the closer they had gotten to their destination.  Tom had apparently recommended the place after Shizuo had asked and Tom had looked it up, but Izaya knows little to nothing about it.  The shelter is quite clean, at the very least, but there are muddy paw prints (which Izaya had carefully avoided in his expensive boots) littered across the linoleum floor and the distinct smell of wet dog hanging stifling in the air.  Shizuo does not seem bothered by either of these facts as he greets the young woman at the desk and explains that they're just here to play with the dogs for a little while, if that's okay.

“Are you thinking of adopting a puppy sometime soon?” she asks, smiling sweetly and sounding genuinely enthusiastic.  Izaya manages to catch himself before he glowers at her; Shizuo is happy, and Izaya does not need to ruin it by externalising his own discomfort.  Even if he can feel his breathing stutter slightly as he inhales.

“Maybe,” Shizuo responds, still somewhat awkward as always in the face of friendly interaction with strangers, “We, uh...we’re living in an apartment, right now.  So maybe it's a plan for the future.  But we’d probably get an older dog, y’know?”

The woman’s smile widens.  “I think that would be a great idea! Most young couples come in here looking for puppies.”

Izaya’s breathing almost stops at the word “couples”.  It's absurd, because that's what he and Shizuo  _ are _ , a couple, and while he's willing to admit that much to himself it's a completely different thing for a stranger to say it, to assume just by looking at them.  

“But I suppose it's different for them, trying to start a family and all that,” the woman chuckles, “You two are roommates, huh?”

Izaya’s shoulders drop in immense relief, which he hopes goes unnoticed by Shizuo and the woman, but his heart is racing even faster than it had been when they’d first walked in.  He inhales deeply, with even more difficulty than before, and wills to just get this over with.

Shizuo speaks to the woman for only a few minutes more, before she is leading them through a door and then a hallway, opening a few baby gates on the way with practiced ease and stepping around the thoroughly-chewed toys strewn throughout the building.  It's more eerie to Izaya than it perhaps should be, like broken children’s toys in an abandoned house, but he keeps his face completely neutral - not that Shizuo is paying him any mind at all.  Conversation has resumed between his boyfriend and the woman, more relaxed than it had been at first, and the two of them walk a pace in front of him as the door to his doom looms ever closer.  It looks innocuous enough, plain white wood with “Dog Room 2 / Outside” engraved on a metal sign beside it, but Izaya’s anxiety builds up nonetheless.  He can hear the muffled shuffling just beyond it, not right up against the door but close enough.  A handwritten sign in scrawled kanji, sellotaped to the middle of the door, commands that it be kept shut at all times.  

“The pens are all open,” the woman explains, smiling brightly, “But I expect that most of the dogs are outside.  You can just go straight through, if you’d like - there should be someone out there.”

Shizuo nods and thanks her with a certain note of excitement in his voice, and then she's walking back down the hallway and leaving them alone.  Izaya is tempted to grab Shizuo’s hand, but he knows that’s stupid, and that Shizuo will definitely feel him shaking if he does.  Instead, he nods towards the door and hopes that Shizuo doesn't look directly at him.

“Go on, then,” he says, shocked at his own composure, and Shizuo quickly obeys without even properly glancing his way.  The door clicks shut behind them once they've both stepped through, and the smell of  _ dog  _ hits Izaya like a wall.  At least the woman had been right in her assumption that all of them would be outside, the only things in the room are the empty pens occupied by blankets and half-eaten bowls of dry food, but the presence that hangs with them is enough to send Izaya’s heart racing.

_ Shut up, you're fine.  You're safe.  They can't hurt you.  Shizuo is here.  He won't let anything hurt you. _

But Shizuo doesn't even  _ know _ .  How is he meant to protect Izaya against something that he sees as the total opposite of a threat? He’ll probably just laugh if Izaya says anything, not that he would even dream of doing so, or be that terrible mixture of annoyed and disappointed that he always is when Izaya pushes him just a little too far, or ruins something special or important.  Besides, Shizuo is happy - smiling, excited - and  _ fuck _ , Izaya thinks to himself,  _ do not fuck this up for him _ .  

Shizuo leads the way eagerly across the room, towards the half-open door to what is presumably a garden for the dogs to play in, and Izaya glances warily at the empty beds as he follows.   _ You're fine.  Shut up.  You're fine. _  But he can feel his thoughts begin to grow less and less rational, simultaneously slowing down and speeding up tenfold.  The usual constant stream of vague uneasiness - assessing his environment and the people around him, comparing names and faces and conversations and compiling it all - loses focus, and instead his mind is overrun by one main sense of  _ danger _ .  He’s glancing back behind him as he walks, thinking over the layout of the building, considering escape routes, and is halfway through considering whether he would be able to outrun a standard adult dog when he suddenly stops in his tracks.  Shizuo pushes the door open casually, and cannot even take a step outside before the dogs from outside begin to flock to the new stranger, barking and jumping up and down to try and assess him.  Suddenly, Izaya finds himself unable to breathe.  The noise is worse, more panic-inducing, than gunfire, and the moment the beasts set their sights on him all logical thought leaves his mind.  One of the dogs bounds towards him, teeth bared, and then he’s running.

All of his consideration of escape routes is forgotten as he flees, throwing open the door to the hallway and staring down it in blind terror.  The door in front of him leads to the reception, there will be people there, so he takes the door to his right and slams it behind him when he hears the dogs following him through the open doorways.  Trembling violently, he blinks at the room he is in; it's a storage cupboard of sorts, the size of perhaps a small bedroom and filled with boxes and cages piled high.  Now that he has fled, and is still being hunted, his next instinct is to hide.  He clambers over the boxes in his way, too panicked to find a way around them, until he is pressed up into the far corner staring wide-eyed at the door.  It is silent for several moments, only disturbed by his choked, rapid breathing, but then the door handle moves and in another jolt of panic Izaya is dropping to the ground and curling up as small as possible, hidden amongst the clutter.

“Oi, flea,” Shizuo’s voice calls, sounding somewhat irritated but mostly confused as the door clicks shut behind him, “The fuck was that?”  

He steps into the room, and Izaya hears the harsh noise of him violently kicking what he assumes to be a cage out of his way.  “Where are you?”

His heavy footsteps draw closer, stumbling as he makes his way through the small but overcrowded room, and Izaya’s mind reaches a conflict between  _ Shizuo is safe  _ and  _ Shizuo is angry _ .  Cornered, and too terrified to fight, he presses his face into his knees and curls up tighter as if he can disappear if he just wills it hard enough.  Shizuo’s footsteps stop.

“...’Zaya?”

There is a beat of silence, a shuffle of clothing, and Izaya opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of Shizuo kneeling on the floor in front of him, hand half-outstretched.  

“You’re--you’re crying.”

Izaya blinks, stares at the slightly darker patches surrounding the rips on the knees of his jeans, then suddenly draws a harsh, shuddering breath that doesn't at all reach his lungs.  He’s hyperventilating again now, but he doesn't know what to do, feels guilty and cornered and Shizuo is just looking at him, hand still hovering uselessly in midair.

It is about a minute more until Shizuo reaches forward like he's trying to touch an injured bird and settles an uneasy hand on Izaya’s shin.  This has the opposite effect than was likely intended, and suddenly Izaya’s crying even harder but his breathing is coming ever so slightly easier.  He wants to crawl into Shizuo’s arms like a child, but this just makes the guilt bubbling up in his throat choke him once again.  

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out, too sudden and harsh in the silence even though he's been repeating it over and over in his head ever since he’d come to the realisation that he’d probably already succeeded in ruining Shizuo’s joy, “I’m okay, I’m fine.  I’m sorry.”

He meets Shizuo’s eyes for a single second - they're wide and confused, but he can see the single sliver of anger in them and that's enough to cancel out everything else in his mind.  He's aware of the hot, ugly tears dripping down his cheeks, gathering at his chin, and he must look like an embarrassing  _ mess _ , shaking and sobbing and causing a scene even if there's no one to hear or see them.  He wants to calm down, wants to stop being  _ like this  _ so that Shizuo can just go out and have fun without having to concern himself with Izaya’s bullshit, but he still can't get any air in his lungs as he desperately mutters apologies and he  _ hates  _ it.  

The dogs are suddenly barking again in the next room over, scratching at the wall separating them, and Izaya scrambles as if it's possible for him to get any further away, eyes wide with terror.  “Stop,” he whispers to no one in particular, perhaps begging the dogs themselves to mercy him.

“Shit.”  Shizuo shuffles closer, heedless of Izaya lashing out weakly to try and ward him off, until he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend and pull him into his chest.  Surrounded by Shizuo’s scent, and the warmth of his jacket, Izaya’s breathing steadies slightly and then he's giving up any warped sense of pride to wrap his arms tightly around Shizuo’s shoulders and hide himself in the crook of his neck.  

“You’re scared of dogs,” Shizuo says quietly after several moments, and of  _ course  _ the idiot’s only just caught on, but at least Izaya doesn't have to admit it out loud.  

“I’m sorry,” he says very quietly, reluctant to say the words now with a very slightly clearer head, and suddenly Shizuo is leaning back and staring him in the face, hands holding his shoulders with such care that Izaya is struck with the urge to lash out again.  His eyes are wide with something between horror and concern, as they very often are when another  _ thing  _ about Izaya comes to light. 

“I’m not--fuck, ‘Zaya, I’m not  _ mad _ .  Well, I am.  Kind of.  But not...not at  _ you _ .”

Perhaps Izaya should take offence at being talked to like a child, but with his shoulders still shaking under Shizuo’s hold he finds himself tentatively submitting to the comfort.  Shizuo stares at him for a moment longer with his eyes melting into something sad and empathetic, before he is pulling Izaya close again and slowly rubbing a hand up and down his back.  Izaya presses his head into the juncture of his boyfriend’s neck and shoulder and breathes, pretending he can't feel his eyes begin to sting again.  

“What are you sorry for?”

The question is asked so softly that at first Izaya is not completely sure he has heard it.  For a second, he hears his mother’s voice echoing in his mind: ‘What are you sorry  _ for _ ?’ The memory is enough to send a jolt of guilty, childish panic through him, the way he always used to feel when his mother got angry.  His apologies and excuses were never good enough.  Sometimes, when he was much younger, he wondered if that was why his parents left all the time.  Because he couldn't be good.

“I’m being selfish.”

Because he was  _ selfish _ .  

That was his parents’ favourite thing to call him.  Whenever he asked why they left, said that he missed them or that he was lonely and afraid.  Stop being so selfish, Izaya.  This isn't all about you, Izaya.  

We’re playing with Mairu and Kururi, now, Izaya.  You’re much too old to be acting like this.  

Much too old to be acting like this.

Izaya shifts, tries to wriggle his way out of Shizuo’s grip in a sudden burst of desperate shame, but Shizuo merely tightens his grip and turns them around so that he is sat against the wall with Izaya is leaning against his chest.  He has gotten frustratingly good at understanding when Izaya means the things he does and says, and when he doesn't, and it drives Izaya mad to be seen through so easily.  Shizuo lets the silence hang for the time it takes Izaya to calm down again; he knows to leave distance between his questions, lest Izaya clam up completely.

“Why d’you think you’re being selfish?” Shizuo’s voice rumbles where Izaya’s ear is pressed to his chest, just above his heart.  Izaya does not want to talk about it, so he begins to focus on the rhythm of Shizuo’s heartbeat.

“Oi,” Shizuo says, softer this time, “Answer me.  Please.  I hate it when you're upset about stuff I don't get.”

Izaya is silent for a minute.  “It isn't something you need to worry about, Shizu-chan.  Besides, I’m sure that poor secretary is wondering where we’ve gotten to--”

“Don't try and brush this off.”

Izaya laughs - barely a sharp exhale, and an inhale that shudders as if he's about to cry again.  

“Why not?” he asks lightly, “That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life.”

“That should be proof enough that maybe it's a shitty thing to do.”

“Everything I do is shitty, Shizu-chan.  We’ve established this.”

It's likely a low blow, to bring up their past full of insults and hatred, and Izaya can feel the way Shizuo tenses behind him.  For a moment, he is positive that Shizuo will grow angry, huff or yell “whatever” and give up on him like he probably should.  Izaya is good at pushing Shizuo’s buttons to make him back off whenever he gets too close to something painful, but again, Shizuo is adapting.  Slowly, the tension leaves his body and he's dropping his head forward so his nose just brushes against Izaya’s hair.

“I want to know why you did this,” he says softly, in a way that makes it sound like he's just stating his desires rather than expecting Izaya to cater to them.  Izaya gives a somewhat pained, and utterly false, smile, which goes unseen.

“Because it made you happy,” he replies.  The honesty feels heavy, unpleasant, and for once he doesn't want to consider the meaning behind his words.  He just wants to say them and let them be heard.

“It doesn't make me happy to see you upset.”

“Not that,” Izaya manages to huff something almost close to a laugh, even though he's sure that Shizuo isn't trying to make a joke, but the pause until he continues is long.  “You said you wanted a dog.  So...so, who am I to say no? I  _ said  _ no, but then you looked so miserable.”

Shizuo remains silent, waits for him to continue.  Izaya can feel tears gathering and hates himself for it.

“I didn't want to be selfish.”

“This isn't all about me, y’know?” Shizuo says, “Relationships are all about compromise.  They're about trying to find...a balance, or something.  A way to make both people happy.  Any relationship - any  _ kind  _ of relationship - that’s all about just one of the people is bullshit.  And if the person that's getting all of the focus is calling you selfish for wanting any fraction of what they get--”

Shizuo stops suddenly, and Izaya can feel the way he's beginning to tense again, hands curling into fists against the fabric of Izaya’s jacket.  He breathes, leans further forward and presses his nose against Izaya’s hair, pulls a hand back up to rest over his shoulder and pull him closer.

“If they're doing that to you...if they did that to you.  Then fuck them.  Okay? Fuck ‘em.  ‘Zaya.  Fuck.   _ Please _ .  You've gotta understand that this isn't a one-sided thing.  This isn't like that.  I want you to tell me when you're upset about something, or when you don't want something that I want.  A ‘no’  _ always  _ overrules a ‘yes’.  You're not being selfish for not wanting something, especially not if you're fucking scared.”

Izaya doesn't know what to say, finds himself unable to get any words past the sudden lump in his throat even if he did know, but he does feel the tears spill over and begin to flood down to his chin, and then Shizuo is pulling him impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.  A pause, and then a kiss just under his eye, on his cheek, covering the tear tracks until Shizuo meets his lips.  It's wet and tastes like salt, and only serves in making Izaya cry harder, but it also makes the horrible  _ something  _ that settled in his stomach go away, makes him forget the sound of his parents’ voices and the sound of glass shattering against the wall.  It's all still there, in the back of his mind, and it will come back again and again and again on many days after this one, but the knowledge that Shizuo will be there even in the worst moments makes it all feel slightly less daunting.

“I love you,” Shizuo whispers, meeting Izaya’s gaze and smiling.  Izaya still cannot say the words back, cannot even imagine a time when he will - just the same as he cannot ever imagine a time when he can tell Shizuo all the things that he deserves to know - but he can begin to allow himself to believe them - at least a little bit.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been in this fandom since 2012 yet this is somehow my first shizaya one shot??  
> this was meant to be just like 2k words of hurt/comfort but as usual with anything i do it got wildly out of hand and turned into an angsty mess  
> hopefully you enjoyed it at least, please leave a comment if you did!! (or reblog/like it on tumblr @catbrains-writing, if you fancy)  
> thank you for reading! <3


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